


The Mad and the Hating Eyes

by ArchArch3r



Category: Claymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-25
Updated: 2016-11-25
Packaged: 2018-09-02 03:59:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8650552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchArch3r/pseuds/ArchArch3r
Summary: Ophelia crosses swords with a figure from her past and finds herself in self-conflict.





	

The sun was about to set. Once-bright golden rays were slowly giving way to the weak orange that announced the loneliness of nightfall. Ophelia fastened her braid as she neared the glade, for she knew what was awaiting her beyond the treeline. A vicious smile stole across her lips as she walked past the last, scattered trunks. The smell of dead leaves dissipated as her footing gradually changed from dirt to fresh grass. Having reached the clearing, she granted herself a moment to let the atmosphere sink in, then focused on the warrior before her, observing her from the centre of the meadow. They were about the same height, and her silvery eyes were set in a fair, almost frail face. Her body was delicately built, much like a dancer’s; long, light hair fell loosely down her back, slowly moving in the soft breeze.

 

“Are you the one who sent me this?” Ophelia asked, holding the black card she had received in the air. She smiled an unpleasantly friendly smile.

 

“Yes” The warrior answered. In contrast to her appearance, her voice was strong and steady.

 

“You don’t look like an awakened one,” Ophelia noted. Tilting her head slightly and calmly inhaling through her nostrils she continued, “Nor do you smell like one.”

 

“That may be due to the fact that I haven’t awakened yet. Don’t you remember me, Ophelia?” She almost spit out the name, spite now written all over her otherwise angelic face.

 

“No, and if that’s the case I’m not interested,” Ophelia answered plainly. She cleanly ripped the black card in half and let the pieces slip through her fingers. Before they could even reach the ground, she had already turned around and taken a step towards the treeline. The warrior was halted, as her voice proceeded.

 

“The group of Yoma you slew in a small village years back. The family you slaughtered alongside them. The daughter you didn’t have the mercy to kill.”

 

A bestial grin spread across Ophelia’s face, and sparks of insanity shone in her eyes. She turned to face the other warrior.

 

“Oh? It’s you. How very interesting! Am I correct in the assumption that you are looking for a fight, then?”

 

“Ophelia, it’s your head I want!”  
The woman unsheathed her claymore, raising its tip to the level of the other warrior’s throat, her feet shifting into a fighting stance.

 

 _‘Her first move after closing in will be a thrust.’_ Ophelia drew her sword too, only to bury its tip deeply into the soil.

 

“You know how to kill humans without the Organisation noticing? I’m sure you remember,” the now unarmed warrior whispered. “With your bare hands and teeth.” Her eyes flashed as bloodlust shot through them. Her adversary clenched her teeth.

 

“Let’s make a game out of this then, shall we?” Ophelia continued. “I’ll grant you the mercy I denied you the last time we met. You are welcome to give it your best. Still, since you are a pathetic weakling, I will fight you bare handed, killing you like your-” Ophelia didn’t get to finish her sentence before an enraged shout cut her off. With inhuman speed, the other warrior charged.

 

 _‘A thrust at my heart,’_ Ophelia corrected herself.

 

Still grinning, she jumped. She found footing on the edge that was meant to end her life. As she towered over the other warrior, for an instant the silver and the golden, the mad and the hating eyes met. Charging the air, inviting death.

 

Ophelia’s footing disappeared.

 

_‘Right handed blow; centre of mass’_

 

Her head thrown backwards, she straightened her body. The blade swept past her, missing by a hairsbreadth. The sharp noise of the swinging blade still rang in Ophelia’s ears as she prepared to counterstrike. She threw her body to the left, right leg extended as she spun. The kick missed. Two elegant steps backwards had put her adversary out of reach. The enraged warrior bared her teeth, posture lowered, and ready to charge once again.

 

Ophelia chuckled mockingly. “My, my… your gaze is truly terrifying.” Her eyes sparking again, she added, “I can’t wait to see you awaken!” She extended her arms, opening herself up.

 

_‘Let’s see how far I can push her; she’s sure to take the bait.’_

 

Once again, Ophelia’s prediction was correct. Releasing her Yoki in a short burst, the fury instantly closed the gap between them. She was now moving at the pace of a whirlwind, making it harder to dodge her strikes. No longer was Ophelia able to predict her every move. Instead, she drew back her consciousness, giving way to her instincts. She could feel the blood of her wild-eyed adversary boil, her slashes getting less and less accurate by the second. Gradually, frustration and desperation were welling up in her. This only stirred her rage more, clouding her mind and hazing her sight. Slowly but surely, her control over her Yoki was slipping.

 

_‘Right where I want you.’_

 

The next strike was directed at her throat. Seeing the blade coming, she arced her back. Putting her hands onto the soft grass, she let the centrifugal force do the rest. Her foot shot up, hitting her adversary hard in the jaw. The startled warrior stumbled backwards while Ophelia completed her movements and landed in a crouch.

 

 _‘Let’s finish this.’_ Ophelia tensed every muscle in her body to the limit.

 

She exhaled.  
Inhaled.  
Drew half a breath.

 

Then instantaneously released all the built up force. A thousand pairs of wings started beating in panic as the air around Ophelia exploded. The forest was in a state of upheaval. The birds fled in masses, clouding the sky, a stark contrast to the position the two warriors were now frozen in. Ophelia’s still tense body resembled a hunter’s spear that had found its prey. The angelic warrior’s chest was pierced by Ophelia’s arm. Her mien and posture showed surprise and disbelief, while her still angered eyes flickered like a candle at the brink of going out. 

 

Ophelia smiled with sickening elation before whispering, “Your face just now… you look exactly like your mother.”

 

The wounded warrior’s eyes widened as memories flooded her with a tidal wave of emotions, killing her sense of reality. She remembered everything clearly now, not only the blurred face of her bloodsoaked nemesis. 

 

She remembered her little brother left to die in a pool of his own blood. The corpse of her father slamming against the wall, his eyes now lifelessly staring holes into the air. Lastly, her mother standing before her, arms extended in an attempt to protect her child. Tears ran down her cheeks while blood from the hand rammed through her mother’s chest dripped onto the girls’.

 

Shivering, she came back to her senses. Her legs were trembling, her body changing. If she could only exceed her limits, she would be able to rip that disgusting smile off Ophelia’s face. Claw at her. Dismember her. Kill her. Ecstasy swept over her as awakening neared.

 

Meanwhile, Ophelia observed this turn of events with obsessive anticipation.

 

The angelic warrior’s heart was now pumping pure adrenaline through her veins while her mind nourished her craving for vengeance. An unknown pleasure was tingling beneath her skin. Her fingers started turning into claws, and horns dug their way through her front. All human emotions were brushed aside one after another, replaced by a predator’s hunger and a maniac’s longing to kill. It felt like her mind was fighting itself, though only one half would survive this battle. Images of her dead father flashed before her eyes, urging her to kill. Her little brother’s voice rang in her ears, screaming in pain. 

 

This was unbearable.  
Too much.

 

As she was at the verge of breaking, succumbing to her inhuman side, she began to hear one more voice. A soft, female voice was whispering in her ear. One more time, a lost memory sucked her in. 

 

Dim light was shining through the dirty windows as she woke. She allowed her eyes to wander through the place she had once called home, now a butchery. Horror took hold of her as she remembered. The stench of corpses and blood filled her nose. Nauseated, she found it hard to breathe, and panic spread through her chest. The girl tried to stand up, but she couldn’t. Only then did she realize that her mother’s body was lying heavily on her. 

 

“Momma!” she exclaimed.

 

The girl’s excitement was evanescent. Her Mother’s breath was shallow, her body cool. She threw her arms around the woman’s neck, and pulled her closer, as if to protect her.

 

“Momma! Momma! Everything will be alright! Stay with me! Please!”

 

It was in vain, and the girl knew it. Her mother’s life was slipping away. With a heavenly smile, her lips brushed the girl’s cheeks, and with the words “I love you... Lucilla... live,” she parted ways with her daughter. Realities became indistinct, as tears welled up in the girl’s eyes and the warmth of her mother’s love soothed her suffering.

 

Ophelia didn’t understand what was unravelling before her eyes. Lucilla’s awakening had stopped. Her body was as weak and broken as it had been before. No, even weaker, as she cowered on the ground, crying her eyes out like a little child. A cold shiver ran down Ophelia’s spine as her eyes locked onto Lucilla’s face. She was smiling, though death loomed above her. This smile was engraved into Ophelia’s memory, buried beneath her own pain and loss. In this instant, she couldn’t find it in herself to strike down her opponent. Her swordhand started to tremble as she fought for composure. Why was this pathetic scene shaking her more than the most daunting monster? She didn’t understand, and this only added to her fright.

 

However, the moment passed and Ophelia carried out her bloody deed. Without any pleasure, she frenetically ripped Lucilla apart. Her heart stung, though she didn’t know why, and for a brief moment all she felt was hopelessness. She hadn’t realized that she had sunk to her knees. Ophelia raised her hands to her face and looked through her bloodied fingers.

 

The sun had set. Crimson light now ignited the sky like a candle for the dead.

**Author's Note:**

> This text really challenged me in many different ways and even though this fic feels like the weakest one of my works, I can say that I improved a lot by writing this. To a large part this is due to all of SilverDagger's help and constructive criticism. I'm very grateful.


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